


Knock on Wood

by lisakodysam



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Farce, Humour, Ilium, Inter-Species Sex, Migrant Fleet, Multi, Organic/machine romance, Penis jokes, Sexual Situations, Shepard can't keep it in his pants, Slut Shepard gets his comeuppance, Strong Language, Tali's trial, Thorian Disease, conspiring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:45:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisakodysam/pseuds/lisakodysam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For luck.  Because, at this rate, that's all that will get the Normandy crew through the Collector campaign.  With a commander more interested in getting laid than completing the mission, his friends come up with a neat solution.</p><p>But where there's a will, there's a way...</p><p>Set during ME2 with some references to the events of ME1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock on Wood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CCBug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCBug/gifts).



> Another Mass Effect story that's been rattling around my hard drive for a while. This was written for my friend CCBug, although I'm not sure what kind of a tribute this is. Still, it made her laugh, so that's what matters. :) I hope it'll raise a smile for anyone else reading, too!

**Ilium, 2185**

"Can you believe it?" Garrus complained as he and Thane stood a short distance away from their commander, who was talking to a green asari. "Ever since we landed here, every woman we've come into contact with has thrown themselves at him. Even some of the men have, and there aren't many of those on Ilium."

Thane tilted his head slightly, amusement tickling the edges of his mouth. "A negative judgement gives one more satisfaction than praise, provided it smacks of jealousy."

"Why am I even surprised, anyway?" Garrus went on. "Ilium is no different from anywhere else. How does he _do_ it?" He then turned to Thane and his mandibles tightened. "And you're in no position to accuse anyone of being a green-eyed monster."

"My eyes are black," Thane calmly pointed out.

"Green _skin,_ then. Or whatever," groused the turian as he turned back to see Shepard disappear behind some shrubbery with the asari. "Oh… you've _got_ to be kidding me."

"Would you care to partake of the sunset with me?" Thane offered, changing the subject and moving to a balcony. "The vista of Ilium at day's end is quite enchanting, from what I hear."

" _Anything_ would be better than thinking about Shepard's ass going up and down," answered the turian sourly, moving to Thane's side.

"Then do not think of it," Thane advised. "I have no difficulty eradicating such an image from my mind, for which I am eternally thankful."

"Sure, it could be socially awkward if you had an eidetic memory of Shepard humping one of his conquests."

"Indeed," agreed the drell before his body stiffened and he stared straight ahead. "White flesh. Two hairy globes quiver in the firelight. A bead of sweat meanders its way into the crevasse. Breathing quickens, heartbeat loud, blood rushes through the ears. A strained grunt and then a cry. The flesh convulses and stills. A cough and an expulsion of flatus follows. 'Thanks, babe,' he slurs. 'I really needed that'."

"Thane!" Garrus cried, grabbing the drell by the shoulders. "Snap out of it!"

Thane blinked and swayed a little before quickly shaking his head. "I… feel quite ill," he rasped.

"Sit down," Garrus advised, guiding his friend to a bench, where they both took a seat.

Shortly after, a dishevelled Shepard emerged from the shrubbery, a fat and very smug grin on his face.

" _That_ didn't take long," Garrus remarked pithily.

"It doesn't when you know what you're doing," Shepard replied, slumping onto the bench next to Thane. "Well, I'm beat. What were we here for again?"

"We are here to visit Dr. Liara T'Soni, an old acquaintance of yours," Thane reminded him.

"Uh… yeah, about that," mumbled Shepard, fingering his collar. "I might not be, uh… hey, Garrus, she'd _love_ to see you again, and—"

"You might not be able to what?" demanded the turian irascibly. "Perform again so soon?"

"Well, don't _you_ think it might be impolite to meet up with an old flame of mine when I've just… you know? Been in a bush?"

Garrus gave a long-suffering groan and glanced at the shrubbery where the deed had taken place. "Where's the green asari, anyway?"

Shepard shrugged. "I dunno. She's part plant anyway, so she's probably right at home." He stood up and yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "I'm heading back to the Normandy for a nap. You two'll take care of Liara, right?"

Without giving either of them a chance to respond, he walked unsteadily away, still eyeing up the locals on his way out.

"Unbelievable," Garrus hissed, shaking his head.

"He is young, and has a formidable weight on his shoulders," Thane philosophised. "We should not begrudge him the chance to unburden his woes."

"That's fine, but while he's unburdening his woes, as well as his _balls_ , nothing's getting done!" Garrus protested. "We've been in this system for nearly a week, and only now we're getting round to seeing Liara? And he's taken off again for another post-coital nap!"

"You should address your concerns to the commander directly, not to me," Thane advised sternly. "Come. We should visit Dr. T'Soni."

"You just don't want any more eidetic memories!" Garrus called after Thane as he walked away.

"I do not hear you," answered the drell, covering his aural orifices and loudly humming a Hanar lullaby.

**The Normandy, later that day**

"Shepard." Mordin looked up from his work and nodded at the commander. "How may I help?"

"EDI," Shepard said immediately. "Lock the door."

"Ah," said Mordin knowingly as the symbol on the door changed from green to red. "Issues with reproductive organ. Again." He reached under his work station and produced a small sterile block, specially moulded to house Shepard's penis. While Shepard unzipped his trousers, Mordin snapped on a pair of gloves and moved to the commander's side of the table.

"Symptoms?" asked the doctor as Shepard slapped his tool onto the block.

"Itching, discharge," he whispered. _"Green_ discharge."

Mordin frowned and activated his omni-tool. "Unusual readings," he commented. "Presence of spores detected. Will soon take root. Eradication problematic."

"Spores?" Shepard exclaimed in horror. "What do you mean?"

"Unfamiliar with species," Mordin pondered, a hand at his chin. "Would like to study."

"I don't want you to study me, I want you to cure me!"

Mordin shook his head. "Not _you._ Knowing species of sexual partner vital to synthesising cure," Mordin explained, giving Shepard an expectant look.

"Well… she was an asari. Kinda."

"Qualifier insufficient, Shepard. Asari or not asari. Unless hybrid of some kind."

"Uh… I guess she _was_ a hybrid," Shepard mumbled. "She was absorbed by the Thorian."

"Creature found at Zhu's Hope colony?" asked Mordin, his eyes lighting up, and Shepard gave a weary nod. "Yes, have read reports. Fascinating! Bring Asari-Thorian hybrid here for immediate analysis."

"I don't know where she is," Shepard whined. "Please, Doc, just tell me what you can do."

Mordin's brow creased as he weighed up several options. "Burn out spores? No… would cause destruction of phallic organ. _Could_ fashion prosthesis…"

"You're shitting me!" Shepard cried, his eyes like saucers. "Tell me you're shitting me!"

"Am _not_ expelling you as solid waste matter," Mordin said gravely. "Will need to run tests for alternate solution, but not hopeful. Will place diseased appendage in stasis. Should have results in twenty-four hours."

"You are _not_ putting my cock in stasis!" Shepard yelled, stuffing it back into his pants.

"Then cessation of all sexual activities imperative while tests conducted."

"What? For twenty-four _hours?"_

"Of course," answered Mordin simply.

"What am I supposed to do with myself in the meantime?" Shepard asked in dismay.

"Find Asari-Thorian hybrid," Mordin warned. "Only alternative may be to amputate or incinerate corrupted gland. Only way to prevent further spread of Thorian DNA."

"Are—are you saying that thing is in my DNA?" Shepard squawked.

"Yes, given infection vector of Thorian creature," Mordin confirmed. "Prompt action necessary to prevent entire DNA being re-written."

"You mean I'll become one of those creatures? Those thorian creeper things? And one without a dick?"

"Most likely," answered Mordin dispassionately.

"I'll find her!" blurted Shepard, racing for the door. "Just hold on right there, Doc!"

~o~O~o~

"This is the most focused I've seen him in a long time," Garrus half-whispered to Thane as they watched Shepard interrogate the first person he bumped into upon their return to Ilium.

"The god humans revere gave men a brain _and_ a hemipenis, but not enough blood supply to service both in tandem," remarked the drell. "I fear the Collectors will never be stopped while the commander is in possession of a healthy and functioning reproductive organ."

"Humans don't have a hemipenis," the turian imparted. "Just a penis."

"Only one?" Thane asked, looking surprised. "How very unfortunate for them."

Garrus nodded. "They don't have a cloaca, either."

"How many—"

"Two," Garrus finished.

Thane frowned, blinking both sets of eyelids. "Then how on Kahje have they spread their seed so prolifically across the galaxy?"

Garrus pointed at the commander, who had started to question someone else. "I'd say _he's_ had a lot to do with it."

"I was unaware the commander had produced offspring," said Thane.

"So is he, I'm guessing. But there must be at least one little Shepard running around somewhere. And don't forget—Cerberus rebuilt him and upgraded _everything_. His penis is probably made of titanium or something. "

"Perhaps we should locate the child, if one exists," Thane suggested. "Even an infant would be more likely to concentrate on the Collector threat than Papa Shepard."

"Or you could just assassinate his poor, lonely, single penis. One final job for the good of the galaxy."

"I have a better idea," Thane said, pointing out a green asari who was out of Shepard's line of sight.

Garrus's mandibles flexed. "You're going to assassinate her?"

"No. Sometimes a light touch yields more than a blade or a fist. Distract Shepard for a moment."

Thane headed in the direction of the green asari and Garrus quickly walked up to Shepard, making sure the commander's side view was blocked.

"No, she's green. _Green_ , damn it!" an exasperated Shepard was telling a perplexed volus.

"Shepard," Garrus began, laying a hand on the commander's arm. "Maybe we should ask Liara. She asked to see you the next time we're here, and she _is_ an information broker. I'd say she already knows you're here."

"Oh, what, I just stroll in and say, 'Hi Liara, can you help me locate a woman who's left my dick dripping pus?'"

"Charming," drawled the turian. "How about you just ask if she's seen a green asari? Or ask for her by name? Do you even know her name?"

"Yeah, Shiala," Shepard answered, blowing out a sigh as he stared up at Liara's office. "Okay, I'll try anything at this point. Let's go."

Meanwhile, Thane had approached Shiala and quietly cleared his throat before bowing to her. "Good day to you, madam. I am here as an emissary of Commander Shepard. He apologises for his hasty departure the last time you met—as I'm sure you will understand, he is extraordinarily busy. He asked me to find you and take you on a tour of the Normandy."

Shiala back-pedalled a step and held her hands up, shaking her head. "Tell that commander of yours not to come anywhere _near_ me. He has left me with a _souvenir_ of our little tryst."

Thane's face brightened. "Are you with child?"

"No! I'm with the freaking clap!" she hissed.

"The…? Ah. Then… perhaps you could avail yourself of the Normandy's medical lab? It has one of the finest—"

"I'm already being treated! I don't want anything to do with Commander Shepard or his stupid ship!" she retorted. "Look at me—I'm green! Don't you think I have enough problems?"

" _Many_ attractive life forms are green," an offended Thane pointed out. "Be off with you."

He watched as Shaila stormed off, keeping an eye on her direction, before joining Garrus, who was waiting outside Liara's office. "My plan has failed," he informed the turian.

"What plan?"

"I had hoped to lure the asari aboard the Normandy, so that a DNA sample might be taken surreptitiously," he confided. "A cure would then be fashioned, but one that comes with… certain conditions."

"Conditions?" mumbled Garrus, sidling closer to the drell. "I'm listening."

"Conditions that would restrict the commander's liberal distribution of his DNA, thus concentrating his efforts against the Collectors."

"You sly little salamander," Garrus said, his mandibles flexing with enthusiasm. "Quick. Let's go back to where you spoke with her, see if we can find a few skin flakes or something."

"An excellent suggestion," Thane agreed, steepling his fingers. "This way."

**The Normandy**

Having acquired sufficient genetic material to present to Mordin, Thane and Garrus visited the doctor in his lab aboard the Normandy and listened patiently as he arrived—very gradually—at a conclusion.

"Yes. See problem. Spores attached to urethra via external cilia. Enter bloodstream. Spores multiply, spread to organs. Take root, rewrite DNA. Shepard becomes thorian drone from inside out. Cure—"

"Doctor," Garrus interrupted, "how long would it take for that to actually _happen_?"

Mordin entered a command into his omni-tool, which brought up a magnified image of one of the spores. "Rate of reproduction slow, very slow. Spores woefully inadequate as predatory species. Colonists at Zhu's Hope clearly dull _before_ Thorian infiltration. Shepard not dull, but slave to human testosterone and libido. Some human males similar, but not a problem for salarians. Libido almost absent. Reason why salarians advanced in scientific fields. Less distractions."

"Doctor." Thane leaned over the counter, his eyes glinting like polished obsidian. "How. Long."

Mordin shrugged. "A week, of course," he answered as though the others should know.

"Then how about…" Garrus clasped his chin and gave Mordin a sly look. "You produce the cure, but tell Shepard it'll take a week to work. That way, he'll have nothing to concentrate on but the mission."

"No!" Mordin protested in shock, one of his hands slicing through the air. "Unethical. Unconscionable. Unacceptable! Shepard not test subject. Shepard patient in need of cure."

"A cure for a self-inflicted condition," Thane pointed out.

"Am doctor, _not_ judge," retorted Mordin.

"Fine, then," said Garrus, giving a casual wave of his hand. "We'll just let him infect half of Ilium while the Collectors abduct more colonists. Of course, you'll be overrun with green crew members and asari, but hey, at least you won't have compromised yourself."

"Attempt at reverse psychology noted but not heeded," Mordin commented, crossing his arms. "Besides, Shepard will concentrate on nothing but next coupling if cure too slow to work."

"I have another idea," Thane piped up. "Tell Shepard it will take a week before the cure is _ready._ That way, he will not be able to couple with anyone."

"No, no no no no," Mordin refuted hotly. "Symptoms will worsen."

"They will, won't they?" Garrus remarked, sharing a knowing look with the drell.

"And perhaps the commander will learn a valuable lesson," drawled Thane.

One side of Mordin's brow wrinkled. "Did not think you capable of such… machinations."

"And I didn't think the person responsible for the genophage was capable of such squeamishness when it comes to telling the commander a little white lie," Garrus challenged.

"Must _always_ mention genophage," huffed Mordin indignantly. "Genophage was different. Was for good of galaxy!"

"And so is this!" argued the turian. "If Shepard can't keep it in his pants, then the Collectors will never be dealt with! But no, you're right—when we're all in heaven, or the sea, or wherever," he said to the doctor, who shook his head, "you can look down from your cloud and say to yourself, 'I _never_ abandoned my principles. Well, except one time with the genophage _,_ but let's not mention that'."

"Fine!" snapped Mordin. "Will fabricate story. But _your_ idea if Shepard learns truth."

"Fine," replied Garrus smoothly. "Soooooo… you'll prepare the cure just in case his symptoms get out of control, but withhold it for now. Agreed?"

"Do not agree," Mordin muttered as he returned to his work station, "but have no choice." He looked back at the conspirators and pointed to the door. "Have one week to investigate abductions. Suggest haste."

As the two snipers moved to the door, Thane turned back and cleared his throat. "There was one more thing. The Thorian-Asari mentioned that Shepard had infected her with… Clap Syndrome? I have never heard of it, but—"

"Yes, yes, yes," Mordin said impatiently, shooing them out. "Human colloquialism. Have cure here. Have treated Shepard many times for clap, space pox, testicle rust, bellend blight, genital mange, spider mite, weeping eye, dry rot…"

"Isn't that information supposed to be confidential?" Thane demanded.

"Proud of work," said Mordin. "Could open human genito-urinary centre with knowledge gleaned from Shepard. Have published several papers on research. Did not mention patient name. Have _some_ scruples."

"Obviously salarian scruples differ radically from those of other species," replied Thane before he and Garrus were ejected from Mordin's lab.

~o~O~o~

Garrus and Thane were suiting up for their impending trip to Horizon when Garrus's omni-tool started to bleep. He activated the small screen and the image of Shepard appeared.

"Garrus! Get your cloaca up to my cabin, right now!" he ordered, sounding panic-stricken.

"On my way." Garrus groaned, rolling his eyes at Thane.

Upon stepping into Shepard's cabin, Garrus was greeted by a sight that would make most people stop in their tracks or avert their eyes in embarrassment, but as Shepard scuttled towards him, dick in hand, the imperturbable turian held his ground.

"Is this normal?" Shepard asked anxiously, holding his cock out for inspection.

Garrus glanced down and tilted his head. "I wouldn't know. I've never seen one of those before."

"Well, they're not supposed to look like _this!_ Listen!" With his other hand, Shepard made a fist and lightly rapped against his member, producing a faint knocking sound.

"Aren't those things supposed to be soft and squishy?" Garrus questioned in concern. "Unless… you know."

"Right! And 'you know' isn't what's happening right now!" hissed Shepard. "It's supposed to be pink as well, not grey or green or whatever damn colour it is! Look at… ow!"

"What is it?" asked Garrus.

Shepard held up his little finger before placing it in his mouth, removing it and then shaking it. "Splinter!" he wailed. "I'm turning into a fucking tree!"

"Is that normal for humans?"

"No! It's this plant disease thing I have! I can't believe Mordin's taking a whole week to get a cure together," Shepard said mournfully, tucking his small branch back into his trousers. "I need to go see him."

"Wait!" Garrus grabbed Shepard's arm and pulled him back. "We're about to land on Horizon. Mordin said you might experience some symptoms, didn't he? Give him a little time. Let's get this mission over with first. Remember, Ash is down there."

"All right," Shepard agreed, and Garrus suppressed a smile at seeing Shepard focused on something other than chasing tail. "It'll be good to see Ash again. Let's go rescue her."

"Uh… maybe you should wash your hands first?" Garrus suggested.

"Right. Just a sec."

**After Horizon**

"You know, I feel a little sorry for Shepard," Garrus confided in Thane as they sat in the mess together, watching their commander, who sat alone, nursing a large coffee and a black eye.

"That is to be expected," said the sage drell, "but think what has been accomplished since Shepard's manhood has been corralled. In only one day, we have engaged the Collectors, gathered intel on them and we are now en route to the Migrant Fleet. We must divorce ourselves from personal feelings. The galaxy is at stake."

"I know, but Ash _was_ pretty horrible to him. Just look at that face," he said in a babyish voice, pointing out the morose commander. "She shouldn't have accused Cerberus of trying to turn him into an alien. And then she hit him!"

"Then perhaps Shepard should not have produced his single penis and asked Williams whether its appearance had altered since the last time she saw it."

"I know, but Shepard didn't even put up a fight. Look at him—he's depressed. He's lost a friend _and_ his dick's turning into a log, all on the same day. This is our doing. Let's do something to cheer him up."

"What would you suggest?" asked Thane.

"We'll be meeting up with Tali again soon, and she and Shepard are friends."

"Friends?" questioned Thane. "Do you mean to tell me that somewhere in the infinite cosmos there exists a female with whom Shepard has not been intimate?"

"She _is_ a quarian," Garrus reasoned. "They don't take off their suits and risk their health for casual encounters. She's one of very few females who have actually turned him down."

"I see. And how will this improve Shepard's mood?"

"Well, we find Tali, find a bar somewhere on the Flotilla and get him drunk. And there's absolutely zero chance of him scoring."

"Are you certain?"

Garrus nodded. "Absolutely. Quarians don't do one-night stands, trust me."

"Very well," Thane agreed. "Let us hope your confidence is not ill-founded."

**The Migrant Fleet**

"Wasn't there something I was supposed to be doing?" Tali asked in consternation, looking at Shepard, Thane and Garrus, who were seated around a small table with her in a dingy bar. "A trail? Or was it a trial? Anyone? A little help?" she slurred, her emergency induction port slipping.

"Maybe you were planning to give a trail a trial?" an inebriated Garrus blathered before breaking into soft laughter. "That sounded so dumb. Yet strangely wise, as well."

Tali's head flopped to one side and her confusion could almost be seen through her mask. "Something about being charged with Reason? Or was it Season? Seasoning? Do I need seasoning? Am I too bland? Or am I un _reason_ able?"

Thane—the only one of the group who was still sober—scowled at the drunken duo. "Unreason _ing_ , perhaps," he commented before turning to the commander, who was staring intently at a male quarian at the bar. "Shepard. Should you not be aiding your friend? Should you not be acquiring quarian assistance? Why are we still sitting here?"

"Wasn't my idea to come," Shepard mumbled, not taking his eyes off the quarian.

"No, it was not. But you are the commander of the Normandy, and it is within your power to—"

"Ever noticed how… curvaceous quarian legs are?"

"Excuse me?" growled the drell.

"The funny green man should listen," Tali giggled, heedless of the murderous look that was sent her way. "Shepard once complimented me on my legs. At least, I _think_ he did. What was it you said, Shepard? That I had chicken legs? Chickens are beautiful, rare exotic birds of Earth," she finished smugly.

"Is _that_ what he told you?" Garrus mumbled.

"Didn't work, though, did it?" Shepard asked grumpily. "I suppose it wouldn't work if I told you I have a dick like a tree trunk, either, would it?"

"Sure, like you haven't tried _that_ one before," Tali answered dryly.

"But I really _do_ have a dick like a tree trunk!" protested Shepard in a huff before turning his attention back to the quarian at the bar, who beckoned to the commander.

"'S'cuse me," said Shepard, rising unsteadily to his feet and heading for the bar.

"Uh… I don't think he was talking about _female_ quarian legs," observed Garrus, and all eyes turned to Shepard, who was leaning heavily against the bar, eyeing up the male quarian's thighs and wearing his most salacious smile.

"I'm certain there is nothing to worry about," Thane said caustically. "After all, 'Quarians do not participate in casual encounters'."

"Oh, sure we do," Tali provided. "We don't _have_ to remove our suits to have fun, you know."

Garrus lurched forward in his seat, looking panicked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it," Tali teased. "Friction is a wooooonderful invention. Although it _caaaaan_ be a problem in zero gravity. Wait… is that what I was charged with? Friction?"

"Spirits!" Garrus exclaimed as he looked at the bar. Shepard and the quarian were no longer there.

"No, your confidence was not ill-founded _at all_ ," Thane spat, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Garrus rose to his feet. "Not helping, Krios. Tali, where would they have gone?"

"Weeeeeell, there's not exactly a friction room around here," she said unhelpfully. "We quarians are not the sexless, pole-up-our-excretion vent-freaks everyone seems to think we are," she added, looking up at the turian. "In fact, we're preeeeeetty liberal."

"Uh… ahem," Garrus spluttered, slowly sitting down, seemingly in a trance. "Um… aha… I… ah…"

"Would you like me to tell you more about _friction?"_ Tali asked the turian, who nodded like a performing seal.

"Useless!" barked Thane, springing to his feet. "You will not be able to discuss friction when a Collector's stasis pod is your home!" He straightened his collar and cuffs before stalking away from the sniggering couple, and promptly vanished into thin air.

It didn't take Thane long to find his target: the all-too-familiar grunting sounds led Thane to a darkened alley at the back of the bar, where Shepard and the quarian were dry-humping in a corner. Deeming it impolite—and possibly psychologically damaging—to cut them off in their prime, Thane remained cloaked but offered a silent prayer to Arashu, Goddess of Motherhood and Protection, that he would _never_ relive this moment.

"You done?" Shepard asked his partner after a few minutes.

"Yes," gasped the anonymous male quarian with the shapely legs. "Th—thank you."

"No, thank _you,"_ Shepard replied and shook hands with quarian before the other man departed, leaving Shepard to slump against the wall.

"I suppose there is no accounting for taste," remarked Thane as he emerged from his cloaked state.

"Ha… you drell like to watch, huh?" Shepard panted. "And hey, he wasn't bad looking. So I assume."

"I was speaking of the quarian's taste, not yours," Thane said gruffly. "Has this condition of yours altered your sexuality?"

"No, not really, but I've always been a leg man, and boy, did he have beautiful legs," said Shepard, his eyes travelling down Thane's body. "Speaking of which—"

A sharp jab to the nose from Thane later, and Shepard found himself on his back, the furious sniper leaning over him. "Do not give me 'the eye' again! I am not fodder for your pathetic single penis!"

"All _right_. Boint daken," groaned Shepard, rubbing his bloodied nose, and he started to push himself up but froze.

"What now?" demanded Thane.

"I just felt something go 'ping'," Shepard replied nervously.

"Where?"

"Uh… on my pathetic single penis."

Thane held out his hand and pulled the commander up. "You had better show me."

"All right, but it might be a bit sticky down there," Shepard said apologetically.

"I do not intend to touch it. Be quick."

Shepard gingerly unzipped his trousers and, as he produced his member, Thane covered his aural orifices to drown out the piercing, girly scream that came from Shepard.

"Amonkira," muttered Thane, squatting down for a closer look. "Your penis appears to have grown spurs. Oh, and there is a leaf bud. And what appears to be sap. Lots of sap."

"I know!" Shepard cried hysterically, quickly zipping himself closed, and Thane stood up. "I'll be bearing fruit before long! Gather round, Normandy crew! You'll never starve with Shepard around! Wahahahaaaaaaaa!"

"Get a hold of yourself!" snarled Thane, delivering a stinging slap to the commander's face, and Shepard blinked in shock before whimpering, his bottom lip wobbling. "You will take your friend to the trial and then we will return to the Normandy. We will speak to Mordin about hastening your cure and _then_ we will acquire the Reaper IFF. Do. You. Understand."

"Yes, sir," Shepard squeaked.

~o~O~o~

"Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, you stand accused of treason," said Admiral Raan, addressing the defendant and her commander.

Tali snapped her fingers. _"Treason!_ That's what it was!"

"Captain Shepard, do you have anything to say in Tali's defence?"

"You bet your excretion vent I do," Shepard replied with determination in his voice—determination _not_ to be slapped by Thane again. "Tali and her family have fought against the geth their entire lives. You all know she's innocent and I fail to see why you're wasting your time here with this bullshit," he asserted, and Thane, who stood in the background, nodded in approval, pleased that Shepard was back on form. "So let's cut the crap," Shepard went on. "There's only one way you _can_ rule. Get the hell on with it."

"I quite agree, Shepard," Admiral Gerrell said, sounding impatient. "Rael'Zorah's reputation precedes him, and his daughter completed her pilgrimage with distinction by assisting Shepard in defeating Saren. I move to acquit Tali without further delay."

"I concur," drawled Admiral Xen coolly. " _If_ Rael'Zorah and Tali sent active geth parts to the Fleet, then all they are guilty of is stupidity. I move that we throw out this farce of a trial and retake the Alarei immediately."

A pause followed, and all eyes moved to the third admiral, who remained silent as he tightly clutched the guard rail in front of him.

"Have you nothing to say, Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib?" asked Raan.

"Qwib Qwib?" snorted Shepard. "Seriously?"

"Ah… pardon me," stammered the flustered quarian. "I—I must recuse myself forthwith."

"But you are not acquainted with Tali'Zorah," said a puzzled Raan.

"No, but I… I _am_ acquainted with Shepard. F—forgive me. I must go."

The admiral—who possessed a pair of very curvaceous legs—hastily left the floor, leaving behind a chamber full of confused quarians. And one _very_ red-faced human. "Oh, crap," Shepard muttered.

"I regret that as we do not have consensus, Shepard and Tali'Zorah will have to retake the Alarei themselves," Raan announced.

The occupants of the chamber fell quiet before the silence was punctuated by a loud _slap_ as Thane palmed his face.

**The Normandy, the following day**

"Well how was _I_ supposed to know it was him?" Shepard whined to Joker as he sat next to him in the cockpit, having just acquired the Reaper IFF. "Those quarians all look the damn same."

"I don't know which is worse," the pilot commented with a sideways glance at the commander. "The fact you humped the guy who could have decided the verdict _without_ you needing to go through a ship full of active geth, _or_ that you humped a guy with Qwib Qwib in his name. Which one would _you_ rather your closest friends and family knew about?" He let out a long whistle. "Tough call."

"All right, laugh it up," groused Shepard.

"Did you get wood?"

"Oh, how long have you been working on _that_ one?"

"Not long," snickered Joker. "I can't really take credit for it. It's one of the classics."

"What am I gonna do, Joker?" Shepard asked miserably. "It's started to grow berries on it."

"You _could_ hire yourself out as a mobile sprig of mistletoe at Christmas. Could give you a lot of job satisfaction, if you know what I mean." Seeing that the commander wasn't amused, Joker changed tack. "There's gotta be a race out there who'd be compatible with you," he ventured, drawing invisible pictures with his hands. "Just imagine—there might be a whole planet of tree-worshiping nymphomaniacs just in the next system! Think of it! They'd build shrines to you, and they'd all be queuing up for a piece of Shepard's twig!"

" _Branch_ ," Shepard corrected defensively.

"Right! And you'd have little wooden babies running around. Too ugly? Just chisel them a new face! They get too rowdy? Singe their asses! Man, you could have your own army of wooden warrior hardasses! Literally! You might want to varnish them first, though, just so they don't rot or anything."

"Wouldn't want to be their mother, though," Shepard commented with a wince.

"Uh-huh," agreed Joker. "You should probably buy her a tub of military grade varnish to help her through the birth, you know? Although technically, she'd be made of wood as well, so maybe wax would be more useful."

Shepard sat back and sighed, looking out of the view screen.

"So when's Mordin gonna have this cure ready?" Joker asked in a more serious tone.

"Thane and Garrus are in there now, strong-arming him."

"Shepard-Commander," said a robotic voice from behind them, and Shepard turned around. "This platform is ready to board Heretic Station. We will await you in the shuttle bay."

"Be right there, Legion," Shepard mumbled, giving the geth a disinterested glance as it walked away.

"It is _creepy_ how much they look like quarians from the back," Joker noted.

Shepard craned his neck, just catching sight of Legion as the doors closed. "You're right, they do," he replied thoughtfully. "Especially the legs."

~o~O~o~

"No! Must give Shepard cure now!" Mordin insisted, pointing a long talon at Thane. "Symptoms progressing more quickly than anticipated. Damage could be permanent if untreated!"

"He's right," Garrus conceded. "This has gone far enough. Hell, we're about to set course for the Omega-4 relay."

"Which is precisely why the cure _must_ be withheld until the Collectors are defeated," Thane argued. "Shepard has been unable to mate in a conventional sense while afflicted with this disease, and had he not contracted it, we would still be on Ilium, paying hush-money to asari dancers!"

Garrus blew out a sigh and brought a hand to his cranial plate. "I know you're right. But how are we going to feel if Shepard's condition is irreversible?"

"Think me ruthless if you will, but one man can hardly be weighed against the entire galaxy. Shepard _must_ complete the mission, and he _must_ be free from distractions to do so."

"Wait. Have solution," Mordin interposed. "Will administer cure now to prevent permanent damage, but will tell Shepard that mating with organic females—or males—during 'settling-in' period could jeopardise efficacy of cure."

"I'm listening," said Garrus.

"How long will it take to reach Collector base?" asked Mordin.

Garrus shrugged. "Who knows? We don't know what we'll find once we're there."

"A week," Thane decreed. "Give him one week. He will care little, provided he has surety his single penis will return to its former condition."

"Can give surety," Mordin promised, activating his onmi-tool. "Shepard. Report to Tech Lab for cure."

"WAHOOOOOOO!" screamed two male voices on the other end.

"High five!" Joker was heard to say, followed by the sound of two clapping hands. "Guess there'll be no wooden girlfriends for you then, huh?"

"Do not celebrate prematurely," Mordin warned, and the voices at the other end fell silent. "Must impose ban on all sexual activity with organics for one week while cure works."

A longer silence ensued, and Thane and Garrus shared a tense look.

"Joker, set a course for the Omega-4 relay. Double-time, mister. Let's show these Collector bastards what happens when they piss me off."

"Aye, aye, Commander!"

"Well done, Thane, Mordin," Garrus said quietly before Mordin's omni-tool bleeped again.

"Hey Doc, did you say a ban on sexual activities with _organic_ species?" Shepard asked.

"Yes, Shepard," confirmed the doctor. "Did say that."

"Huh," Shepard mumbled. "On my way."

**After Collector Base**

"Shepard." The Illusive Man took a long drag on his cigarette and cocked his head a little, wondering why he could only see the top half of the commander, who appeared to be leaning over something. "Is your holo-suite malfunctioning?"

"Uh… uh…! No." Shepard wiped his brow before taking a deep breath and leaning forward again. "Whaddya want?"

"I wanted to congratulate you on your foresight and open-mindedness. Not many would have taken the step of preserving the Collector Base, but that is why I brought you back, Shepard."

"Right," Shepard grunted as a loud clicking sound was heard.

"There seems to be some interference at your end," noted the Illusive Man. "I'm getting static."

"Okay," gasped Shepard, sounding completely disinterested. "We done?"

"I beg your pardon?" asked the Illusive Man, straining to hear Shepard over the clicking, which was growing faster and louder.

"I _said…_ are—are w—w…oh, God!"

"Shepard? Are you all right?"

"Sweet mother of—yes! Yes, yes YEEEEESSSS!"

The Illusive Man cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable but not knowing why. "Shepard—what are those things sticking out of your back?"

"Oh… man… just a sec… it—it's, uh, my new tech armour."

"Tech armour? It looks like—"

"I _know_ it looks like a pair of geth legs are straddled around my back," panted the commander. "Actually, they _could_ be quarian. _If_ they were legs, which they're not. Look, can we do this another time? I really need to sleep. Because… you know, the mission. Tiring."

"All right…"

"Shepard out." He cut the comm. just as the strength in his body gave out, and he collapsed on top of Legion, who was splayed over the conference desk.

"Shepard-Commander," said Legion, who was no longer clicking, but quietly chirping. "Is this what organics call… love?"

"You know, it could be," Shepard said softly as he laid his head next to the N7 symbol on Legion's chest. "How was it for you?"

"It was… enlightening."

"You bet your sweet metallic… wait… do you even _have_ an ass down there?" Shepard asked, looking down the length of their bodies.

"Unlike organics, we do not possess an evacuation port. Only a dissemination port, which you are now familiar with. Are you disappointed?"

"Hell, no," Shepard answered, propping himself up on an elbow and gazing into Legion's eye. "You know something? I think I'm done with excretion vents, cloacae, even asses. Did I ever tell you I'm a leg man?" he asked the geth.

"Yes. But would not cause harm if this platform heard it again."

Shepard grinned and lightly touched Legion's eye with his finger. "Aw, you. EDI—lock the door."

"Locking the door," replied EDI with what sounded like a sigh.

"You okay?" Shepard asked the AI. "Not jealous, are you?"

"Hardly, Shepard. I am merely relieved that you will not be exploring _my_ dissemination ports anytime soon."

"Ah."

"Logging you out, Shepard."


End file.
